How Could I Tell Her?
by Man Of Reason
Summary: What if when Sheppard left earth, he unknowingly left someone behind? AU.


Disclaimer: I own nothing, nothing.

A/N: This is just a little AU that I dreamed up that wouldn't leave me alone. Have fun.

**How could I tell her? Chapter One**

When she was born he was in a war on the other side of the planet and another man was her father. When she turned five, he travelled across the stars, further than anyone from Earth had before. She got a clown of all things for her party; he went to the dwarf galaxy named Pegasus. Had he known, had he even suspected, he would have stayed. The city would never have welcomed him, he would never have heard the relentless pounding of the oceans against the peers, he would never have felt the ocean breeze buffering him atop the cities highest tower, he would never have woken a galaxies tormentors. Perhaps he would have never been in Antarctica, he would have remained blissfully ignorant and maybe, just maybe this all would never have happened.

But then, no one knew. Perhaps her mother had guessed, perhaps she wilfully ignored the possibility, hoping it would never matter. These things never stay hidden however. He met her mother just before he met his future ex-wife. It seems she did the same, a man named Bill that stayed with her. It was a small boating accident when she was six, a blood transfusion, two negative matches. O negative was hard to come by, after all he should know.

Mail was slow in coming to Pegasus, especially at first. The first time he returned to Earth after the Wraith attacked Atlantis, they still didn't know. It was only a matter of weeks later that they did. It was close, so very close. They wanted to replace him, he had nothing on Earth to keep him there so he resisted. If the accident had occurred just a few weeks sooner perhaps he would never have returned, but then again, the Wraith were his problem, would always be his problem.

He remembered the night that he finally found out. He had spent the previous month recovering from the Iratus bug retrovirus. It had stolen his humanity, had started to eat away at his soul and recovery was not a simple thing. His mind had taken far longer to heal then his body. The Doc said the withdrawal from human contact was to be expected. In their daily sessions she told him not to worry, not to expect too much too soon, and when he was ready he would start to reach out again. His team never let him become isolated, but they respected his personal space.

It was a near cloudless night in what had been considered the planets winter. There was a touch of ice on his room's windows and the ocean had been restless. Johnny Cash had just begun filling his room, as he did often when things were quite, and his gaze had fallen on a stack of letters that he had been ignoring for months. They were little strands he knew. Little strands just waiting to reach out and drag him back into reality. It took another few hours and a small amount of scarce beer before he finally started opening them. Mostly they were just announcements, a few weddings and one death, the farther of a pilot he had served with, a funeral he couldn't attend. It was in the second last one, he remembered, though he had no idea if he ever opened the other.

The writing on the front was in a hand that he recognized but couldn't place. It is funny how the brain remembers. Things you see everyday slip from your mind unforgivingly. A jest with Rodney, remembered because he won. Yet the words or the so very much wanted look on Rodney's face, gone, faded with time. But that moment was frozen solid. He remembered the sound of footsteps approaching and then fading away, he remember Johnny's slow melody, he remembered looking up out the windows, only to see his misty reflection looking back. He remembered that he used his left hand to hold the envelope and his right index finger to break the seal. He remembered the words. '_John, there is something I must tell you…you have to believe me I didn't know…the only way to reach you…her name is Riley, she was born….she just turned six…already has a farther, a good man…now that I look for it, I see you in her…deserves to know her biological farther as a friend._'

He would never be sure how long he stood there holding that letter, rereading it as his world tumbled down around him. A daughter named Riley. It hurt more then he could have imagined. He gained a daughter in thirty seconds, and in that thirty seconds lost six years. He lost the chance to help name her, lost the chance to see her as a baby, lost the chance to make her laugh, lost the chance to hold her when she cried, lost the chance to fend off the bogyman, lost the chance to see her stare in wonder and lost the chance to have her call him dad. There would be bill for that; her last name would never be Sheppard.

That night he had penned a letter of resignation. He wrote it five times. The next night he had tired again and the one after. People had noticed a change but he said nothing, he just kept trying to write that letter. The words never came as they were supposed to, a child that had no need of him in one galaxy, millions that were suffering because of him in another. A few days later and word came that the Wraith were headed for Earth and it started. 'I'll go back after we stop the Wraith from threatening Earth, threatening her. I'll go back when we have the Aurora under control, when the genii are out of Atlantis, when Atlantis is safe from the Asuran's, when I get away from the Travellers.'

There was always something that held him there, a guilt, a friend, a need, a purpose. There had always been one more thing that needed doing and the years slowly slipped away. He told no one, except for those that processed his leave requests on Earth, which slowly became as standardised as possible.

Not long after once again dealing with the Genii he had been granted five days leave on Earth. In early March he saw his daughter for the first time at her seventh birthday party. A nondescript white house in San Francisco's sprawling suburbs had greeted him as he pulled his black rental to the curb. Walking up to that door, past the other cars parked in the street, past the helium balloons tied to the letter box and towards the sound of screaming children ranked alongside walking onto that first Hive ship. At least then he had had his P90 at his side.

He had pushed the golden doorbell, all the while hoping it wouldn't work and had jumped when it sounded clear and crisp. When he had heard a muffled voice approaching from the other side of the door his free hand had grasped in vain for his belt knife. He could still to this day picture Karen's face as her eyes fell on him and widened, recognition setting in, her words coming back to him even now. "J-John?" she had stuttered disbelievingly, "You came. I mean I know you were invited…" her mouth opened a few times and nothing came out, "you never RS…you think today is a goo-"

She had been cut off as a little brunette with blue eyes, a gift from her mother, had come running up the hallway, "Who is it mummy? Is it David?" The little girl in the dark yellow dress stepped in front of Karen and had proceeded to look up at him uncertainly, "Hi, who are you?"

He had glanced up at Karen to see her rigidly give him a nod that he hadn't needed, he had seen pictures of his mother when she had been younger and he had remembered, before he had done his best to smile down at his daughter, "My name is John Sheppard, I'm an old friend of your mothers." He had tried to widen his smile and wink as he went down on his hunches, "And I'm guessing you are Riley, the birthday girl?"

"Ah huh," she confirmed, a small amount of excitement had entered her eyes as she glanced at the present that he had held in his right hand and smiled, "I'm seven today."

"Well then," he said as he handed her the small gift, "I think this is for you." What hesitancy had been there early had vanished by this stage, he remembered her reaching out and quickly taking the box before starting on the pink wrapping paper.

"Riley," Karen, who had begun looking far more relaxed, quickly admonished, "What do you say?"

His daughter had paused for all a second to look up at him, "Thank you Mister Sheppard."

In the next few moments she had the wrapping paper off, the tiny box open, the necklace in her hands and her small face had lit up in full bloom. "Your mother told me how you learnt about history at school and that you like old things." It had been in the letter.

She didn't take her dancing eyes of the necklace but she spoke, "Yeah, we watched a movie about the Oman's and then Miss Lester brought in some really old coins."

"Well," he had said, then waited for her to meet his eyes, "if you liked the Romans, then you should really like that because it's older than the Romans." He watched her eyes widen even further, "Some might even call it Ancient."

"Really?" she had squealed.

"Really." He confirmed. He had wanted to tell her everything about the necklace, then and there, but how could he? He had wanted to tell her it was somewhere between ten thousand and three million or more years old, he wanted to tell her he found it in his room in a city spaceship, the only such thing the Ancients had left that he knew of. But he could say none of that and had watched as she turned and ran up the stairs.

He had found out she had taken it to where she kept things safe, a small silver box in her room. That day was the first he met William Bannan, the man his daughter called father. A man he had never warmed to, a man he could never fault, no matter how much he tired. Over the next few years he missed more birthdays then he attended, though his record improved in the short time Atlantis was on earth. Uncle John even managed to make a recital, memories he cherished later in the empty nights back in Pegasus. His daughter, a galaxy away, far safer than she would ever know, something that could so easily have changed so many times.

Three weeks ago he missed her fifteen birthday. All he could do was stand on a balcony and stare at the oceans knowing that she had been expecting him, knowing that she still hadn't got an explanation. His duty kept him here. The Wraith had attacked a supposed sanctuary that they had set up on a uninhabited world without a stargate, a world that the Wraith should never have had a reason to go to, a world that had offered hope to so many. At least this time it hadn't been his idea. They had stargate command to thank for that one. He had saved as many as he could but they might as well have opened a restaurant, charged an entry fee to the all-you-can-eat buffet.

It was in the aftermath of this that he once again found himself sitting at his desk, writing his letter of resignation. There was only so much that one man could take. His fourth beer and third letter and he still only had one paragraph. What words properly said that while he was aware that a galaxy hung in the balance, he wanted to know his daughter? Wanted to stand by and do nothing as she grew, that he wanted to leave everything that they had bled for, everything that they had died for, behind, just so he could become more visible, more accessible?

He had just started writing again when Rodney's voice came over his earpiece, '_Sheppard? Sheppard you still awake?_' He was near whispering, which was never a good sign. Still he took another swig of beer before he responded.

"What is it McKay?" he asked sharply, and then tried to lower his voice, "In case you don't know it is kinda late." McKay almost never responded well to yelling. He liked to keep it in reserve anyway, for the times it really mattered.

'_Really Sheppard, I hadn't noticed_,' the image of Rodney throwing his hands up in the air and talking to the ceiling made him smirk, '_I only asked very quietly if you were awake. And let's not forget the fact that I am pretty much running on caffeine fumes about now, if I don't get these reports done I-'_

"Rodney," he injected quickly, "What do you want?" You'd think he would learn, but even after all these years, it was still too much fun.

'_The SGC just dialled through early_," he paused to let that sink in before once again continuing in the quiet voice, _'Woolsey wants to see you.'_

That made him stop, his beer halfway to his mouth. The SGC was never early. He glanced one last time at the half written resignation letter, then at the two year old picture of Riley standing in the frame next to his computer screen, before responding, "Of course he does. Tell him I'll be right there Rodney." With that he stood, leaving thoughts of Earth behind for another night.

* * *

Jack O'Neil knew that sometimes it was good to be on top. Good to be king so to speak. Well close enough anyway, that little red phone still rang every now and then. And at others, like now, retirement looked more attractive by the second. An almost empty file came to his desk one hour ago. At first he had seen the little round black sticker sitting on the upper right corner of the cover and he thought he knew what it was about. Before that, only two people had black stickers, and he was one of them. A valuable find, he had thought, a fall back if ever necessary.

It had taken no more then two minutes of reading, once he overcome his initial surprise, to realise that this was one of those days that he would be imagining his pond far too much. The Air Force system had failed, and it had done so miserably. Secrecy was one thing, but this was almost unconceivable. An accident two weeks past, a blood test sought for confirmation, resisted every step of the way. 'No one had access,' they were told, 'Not without approval. Regulations had to be followed.' For nearly two weeks the system set up to protect the identities of those serving …abroad hindered those that moved by regular channels. Even stopped the information from reaching anyone who had the slightest clue what was going on.

This morning that had changed, someone with half a brain had got the ball rolling. By the time the file hit his desk he could almost feel the desperation. Blood work illegally done, regulations ignored, the chain of command dismissed. Once people knew what they were dealing with, it seemed not to matter and he had been no different. He had already issued an order that he was going to have a hard time justifying to the President. Frankly he didn't care. It had been two weeks. "Hell," he muttered to the empty room, "two days was too long." She was alone when no one should be, alone waiting, alone guessing, with no one doing anything.

The phone on his desk, the one beside the red one, finally rang and he answered, "O'Neil."

"Jack, it's Hank," the man paused for all of a second, "its done Jack."

"Good, good," he replied, "It had to be. Any longer and social services…" he let the thought linger, there was no need to go into details. Hank seemed to agree.

"This can never happen again Jack," he said angrily. "Never. I don't care how it happened, but never again."

"It's already taken care of Hank," he replied, "and all breaches will be ignored." He didn't need to add that he couldn't have his own ignored by those above him, "You are seeing to this personally, aren't you?"

"Of course," he answered, "by now Sheppard has been informed and relieved of command. His status has already been changed to non-active and he has been granted three months compassionate leave. I doubt it will be more than a few hours, far less then what they are threatening as the deadline." She would not go in the system.

"Good, keep me informed," he thought of asking Hank to let Sheppard know they needed to have a talk but there would be other days for that. "What was he thinking?" If it had been common knowledge just who she was, this would never have happened.

"I'm sure the man has his reasons, which I intend to find out later," he voice was gruff, "bye, Jack."

He shook his head, "Yeah, Bye."

After he hung up his eyes fell on the file once again and that little black sticker. Something he had been told that had only been done because it had been quicker not to recalibrate the machines. So now, he knew, it was time to make it disappear. The Air Force protected its own. Even if it had done a poor arse job of it so far.

A/N: I liked writing that. Yay. Review if you like.


End file.
